‘Indeed not, my lord.’ Andrew smiled slightly. ‘I prefer to operate with whatever secrecy is allowed me. It ensures my ability to travel incognito and to take on other names and personalities at will. I entered Ludlow Castle in another guise. Nor did I personally encounter Earl Rivers. But I was able to speak with some intimacy to those who have his trust. And as it happens, I have a certain ability – when needed – of encouraging others to break that trust.’
‘One of the few things Richard said of you!’ Hastings laughed suddenly, sitting forwards and clapping his hands to his knees. ‘Told me you hold trust as a fool’s illusion. Yet the duke says you’ve proved your mettle and he trusts you. How do you explain that then, my lord?’
‘I should never attempt to explain his grace of Gloucester’s motives, my lord, nor aspire to question them.’ Andrew gazed directly into Hastings’ bright, lascivious eyes. ‘But however little respect I hold for trust as a virtue, my lord, I can swear to this. In all things now and forever, I will never betray the duke’s trust in me. And perhaps alone in all the world, I trust his grace. Indeed, the work I do now and the dangers I risk are for him, and for the safety of this realm. I should not wish to live in an England ruled by Earl Rivers and a twelve-year-old puppet king.’
Hastings nodded, frowning. ‘I have been assured of your discretion, Feayton.’ His voice sunk. ‘So, I will tell you this. The king’s heir – this future puppet king you speak of, this insipid Woodville brat – should be no king of England. This is no treason. It is simple fact. The whelp is a bastard born of a bigamous marriage. While Edward lives I’ll say nothing of this, but should his highness die under suspicion of Woodville malice – then, by God, I’ll make the truth known.’ He looked up suddenly and intently, eyes bright, regarding both his companions. ‘And whether either of you choose to remember my words or not, remember this. What I say is truth, but if you think to gain something by repeating it, I’ll deny every word and it will be you arrested for misprision of treason.’
Andrew raised an eyebrow. ‘Being in the nature of my business, I had heard rumours, my lord, but am surprised to hear you speak of it. However, I believe it is another matter on which we have no proof. The lady in question is, I understand, deceased.’
Hastings grinned suddenly. ‘Know about everything already, don’t you, Feayton! Secrecy and discretion be damned. Richard has employed a good man.’
‘My lord, secrecy and discretion are my trade,’ Andrew said quietly. ‘I repeat what I know only to his grace of Gloucester and no other. What I disclose to you, my lord, is on his grace’s orders.’
Catesby interrupted again. ‘But you assume there’s no proof of his highness’s earlier clandestine marriage, since the Lady Eleanor Butler is now deceased. But some of her family are aware, and indeed, there was a reliable witness, and he is still very much alive.’
‘Enough, enough.’ Hastings raised his hand. ‘There are always rumours and the whole court knows of Edward’s dalliances, past and present.’ He turned again to Andrew. ‘My lord, you’re personally acquainted, I understood from our dealings the other day, with Lord Marrott, and through him, with Dorset. I hold Dorset in more contempt than I do Lord Rivers.’
Andrew sighed. ‘The Marquess is – young, my lord.’
‘Your own age, I imagine.’
‘Truly. But his life in recent years has been – let us say – indulged. Easy living does not build maturity.’ Andrew set his cup on the table before him. It was expensive, a standing cup of coloured Murano crystal, and he had seen a similar set long ago in another lord’s house. He had broken one of them, purposefully snapping the heavy stem between his fingers. He still bore the scar. Brushing past uncomfortable memories, he continued speaking to the Lord Hastings. ‘The situation is simple, my lord. The queen’s family has benefited greatly from his highness’s favour. Earl Rivers and the Marquess of Dorset in particular hold enormous power and great riches and have no intention of relinquishing them. But they risk ruin should the king turn his favour elsewhere. In recent months it appears this may indeed occur. Her highness the queen is losing her husband’s ear. She has already lost his bed. If she loses his favour entirely, the house of Woodville will topple. Lord Rivers does not intend that to happen.’
‘And Marrott? How does he benefit?’
Andrew shook his head slightly. ‘As you know, sir, Lord Marrott comes from an old Lancastrian family, and his father was executed after Tewkesbury. Marrott, therefore, has no reason to love his highness. But principally I believe he hopes to gain by the king’s death through his great friendship with the Marquess of Dorset. However, I beg you to remember, my lord, that against Earl Rivers and the Marquess of Dorset, there is only supposition, and although their behaviour seems to me suspicious, I have neither proof nor certainty. Yet Rivers holds the heir to the throne in the palm of his hand. Living together at Ludlow in some isolation from the court, the young prince looks to his uncle before anyone else. If Rivers is to benefit from this before the child grows to his majority, then the king must die, and before the royal testament is changed. The new king will then be his uncle’s dupe, his mother’s lap dog and the country’s curse.’
Hastings said, ‘It’s clear enough. Unless I expose the brat as a bastard and no heir. But to do that while Edward lives? He would never forgive.’
‘And there is another to benefit as much if not more from his highness’s untimely passing,’ Andrew said softly. ‘And that, my lord, is France.’
Hastings let out a long slow breath, looking briefly to Catesby. ‘You accept this as truth?’ Catesby nodded.
Andrew said, ‘It is irrefutable, my lord. I have spent some years building friendships in vital places, inspiring confidence, threatening and bribing. I have traced smuggled imports of arsenic from Venice, but it’s not Italy that plots against us. I know the merchants, their servants and their masters, and have interrogated many. But there are none who dare testify openly to what they have seen or done. French spies roam our land. I also know the French to be in contact with Lord Rivers. He is a man of ingenuity and intelligence and he makes few mistakes. The king trusts him utterly. The country trusts him. His nephew, the heir to the throne, trusts him absolutely. The earl is a nobleman of almost sainted reputation. His adherence to pilgrimage and the church is legendary.’ Andrew smiled slightly. ‘Whatever one’s views on trust, my lord, it is always unwise to trust a man clearly working too hard to gain the trust of those in power. It is true we have no proof. But perhaps, if your lordship were to explain this situation to his highness? After all, I understand his highness also trusts you.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Harold, Baron Throckmorton, sat and stared into his mirror. He had been shrieking at his servants for some hours, both individually and in groups, and the effort and strain showed in his eyes. They were red-rimmed. His golden red hair had fallen slack from its careful curls and now hung lank. His mouth looked drawn and white-lipped. Even his beautiful clothes now smelled inescapably of sour sweat.
The household at Throckmorton Hall was not privy to his lordship’s private business, but that there were family secrets and dark deals aplenty, the staff had realised for some years. Now finance was in short supply but it seemed other even more important possessions had lately gone missing. His lordship blamed every one of his servants for the unaccountable thefts. He was also beginning to suspect a more probable culprit. Indeed, it seemed remarkably coincidental when all the dogs started barking and Bodge entered the baron’s private solar to announce the arrival of visitors, one of whom was the suspicious personage himself.